Book of Sand - An Ecstasy of Caps
by RJtheShadow
Summary: The final installment in the Book of Sand storyline. In it, we follow the story of three skilled gun(wo)men who share one target, each for their own reasons: The Mad Mojave Bomber.
1. Introduction

It should come to no surprise, that the Mad Mojave Bomber would meet his end one day.  
One man does not simply cause this much carnage and go by unnoticed.  
Someone, one day, will concern themselves over you. And seek your execution.

In fact, our antagonist himself would have counted on it.  
And in those dark times, a story usually met it's closure at the business end of a gun.

But the more interesting stories are those that herald the end of an epic tale. And this, this is his.  
The end of his story, and the tale of the trio that ended the terror, that the Mad Mojave Bomber began.

 **The Ecstasy of Caps**


	2. A Merc, a Bounty Hunter and an Assassin

**A Merc, a Bounty Hunter and an Assassin**

Leading out of New Vegas, a figure shining in the bleak sun steps through the gates.  
Her figure is feminine, her clothing showing considerably less armor than a common gunslinger would carry in these parts.  
But the parts that would show skin, instead shows shining white metal.  
A fancier kind. What is seen before us is a woman made out of metal.

But she is no robot. She moves and behaves natural, like a human would.  
Even though she probably has scanners covering all fine 360 degrees of her, she still turned her head cautiously in a manner of scanning the distance, looking for threats.  
Nothing.

She, or it, set out into the distance, ready to cross the harsh heat and staring sun, towards a goal, a purpose… a destination?

A considerable distance away, at a Mojave Outpost, a red haired woman walks past a bounty board, seemingly ignoring it...  
Until she walks past a bounty of a man we've come to know all too well.  
She asks the clerk who he is. Why he is sought… and what his bounty is.

She is informed of the prize, one pleasing her. She starts to strap up her outfit.  
Wearing easily the best maintained combat armor these rugged sands ever saw.  
One would be easily distracted by her curvature before noticing all the weapons she's got strapped.  
Even if she didn't have a bullet vest, all her weaponry would probably stop a slug dead in it's tracks.

She steps out the door, politely kept open by a man with neatly polished leather armor.  
He looked back as he kept it open, tipping his cheesy old cowboy hat. And so she tipped hers.

"Pardon my eavesdroppin' ma'am, but I couldn't help overhear you looking to hunt this man I've been hearing about."  
She looked at him. Eavesdropping be mighty impolite, but this man was going somewhere with this.  
"Some farmers promised me their fancy-lookin' daughter's hand if I could also catch this here man and bring him to some good ol' justice.  
They'd take peace with death, or life in prison."

Then he tipped his hat downward. As if a dark cloud was to befall his words  
"But he proves slippery like a roach, and the stories I catch while following his trail…  
I ain' sure I can handle this one by m'self, ma'am… so I'd like to suggest a partnership. An agreement... "

She had perked an eyebrow, a welcome change from her blank stare at him.  
"It'd be a mighty shame to see a fine woman like yourself be murdered by that scoundrel.  
But together we might be able to take him on…  
You can have whatever it is them soldier boys be promising, as long as I can watch justice bein' enacted upon 'im. I'll pull my weight, what say you?"

She looked forward again, into the distance. Thinking, almost.  
Her stare returned to him, and finally she speaks.  
"You're going to walk beside me, never behind me.  
I ain't in the mood for any backstabbin, but you're sure as hell cheaper than a whiney-ass thick-headed hireling I'd have to snag from a camp or Vault or whatever these suicidal brats come from…"  
He reaches out his hand. "Well then, let's shake on it… _partner_."

They set out on foot, not a vehicle to spare between them, to seek out the man that now unites them.  
His trail leads to an abandoned shack. Spotted by an NCR soldier desperate to make his way out of there.

The trip was long, but this allowed the travellers to share the extent of their skill to each other.

A pair of bloatflies wanted to make trouble, and so the man showed his sharp shooting expertise.  
Within almost the instant he drew his weapon, with lightning fast speed, he had taken down one of them.  
This didn't sound so impressive, lest one considered the fact they were barely close enough to be hit by a sniper rifle.  
Two dots in the distance, and one was gone now.

He smirked at his companion. Maybe it was just his thing to impress women.  
But she lifted another eyebrow, dropped it, and immediately pulled out her caravan shotgun.  
"Hah" he said "there's no way you can hit them without spending a ton of shells, or them getting closer."

She took aim, but before she took the shot, she says.  
"They call me the Shotgun Surgeon…"  
His eyes flare wide open. He heard of that name, one spoken of in tall tales.

He had no time to doubt the truth. A trigger was pulled, and soon no dots were to be seen in the distance.  
No words were added. He found someone of skill worthy to this bounty.

Time passes, and they found the shack. No sign of the man, it'd be doubtful their target was still inside.  
Still, they searched the premises. Maybe some valuable loot was to be found.

But they didn't have long to search. The door to the shack they had closed behind them was swung open, urging her to draw her weapon.  
Before she could take aim, an assault rifle was pointed at her abdomen. Nobody shot, so she took the time to observe her opponent.

The rifle was held with one hand. It wasn't a light thing, yet no shaking or trembling over the weight appeared.  
It was the woman made out of polished metal.

As soon as their eyes locked, a game of intimidation began. Who would fire first?  
They both focussed on eachothers trigger finger. But suddenly she pulled her sidearm and pointed it sideways of her.  
The man had appeared from his cover, revolver ready.  
She, or it, didn't turn the head even a single bit. As though she knew he was right there.

"Well now, seems like we've found ourselves into a lil' impasse." The man joked.  
He feigned his cool attitude. In truth, he was all too intimidated that the pistol pointing at him was perfectly aligned to his forehead.  
So he gently released the hammer of his weapon, and holstered it.  
"You ain' shot us yet, metal lady. You got a noggin' in there, and a reason we're still alive."

It turns her head to him. "You seek a man… a man that has been disturbing everything in the Mojave.  
I seek him too. He is to be removed as a problem. We share this goal. I seek to help."  
He raised his hand. "Then lower your weapons, and tell us your story. Why would we trust you?"


	3. A dead legend

**A dead legend**

It was nearing the night. So they made a fire outside, and made time to better acquaint themselves with each other. Exchanging names and stories.  
Though, aside for the robot, the names were nicknames. It seems the two humans were still cautious, despite their shared goal.

He named himself Dead-Eye Diamond. Commonly called Diamond.  
A nickname given to him because, even in the most distorted of light, in whatever place he found himself, he will hit anything dead-on.  
The Diamond apparently applied to lighting distorting and splitting up.  
He said he didn't particularly liked the name, but it was that or 'a-hole'.

He took the liberty to share his partner's nickname. The Shotgun Surgeon.  
Named Surgeon in short. She didn't tell the story of her skill, but she did share how she shot off a man's ear who was holding someone hostage.  
The poor sod didn't consider the second shot as he whailed in pain.

But when they turned to their metallic companion, the first words said wasn't a nickname, but questions.  
They had guessed that she was a brain in a metal body, but they wanted to know more.  
She lifted her metal hand, and started with her name.

Evelynn, she said. Commonly called Eve. The man said he once heard of an Eve or a Lynn.  
They were the early days, a few years after he was born.

Eve nodded. She once was a legend. An independent mercenary figure, shouldered by men and women she trusted like family.  
She didn't lead them, but they trusted her like a leader.  
Her skill with a rifle was unmatched, and her tactics were superior to those of her opponents, except for one…  
A peculiar raider. A cruel one, in the very least

It was a day of bad omen.  
The sky was unusually dark, possibly the annual day where rain befell the mojave and showed mercy upon the dried plants that survived the harsh sun for so long.

Eve and her team were to take down a Raider Leader who had been planning organized attacks at randomized locations, usually traders but also less well protected NCR caravans.

The location was unfortunate, and soon enough she found herself captured as her remaining teammates were brutally murdered in front of her.  
It was all planned, she was destined to see this, then be brought before their leader.

The man was a monster. Said he wanted to make an example of NCR's favorite hired gun.  
One hand on her throat and his face near her, he wanted to see her cringe in fear as a knife served to rip open her clothing up front.  
He wanted her naked and violated.

She'd have none of it. In a swift move, she bit at his nose and possibly even bit off a piece.  
She wasn't sure anymore of that detail.

Instead, the knife now went into her, completely.  
A stab that just missed the heart, but sliced downward across almost her entire body.  
The pain was horrendous, she remembered. But she passed out quick enough.

What happened next was based on mere assumption.  
She couldn't really see, but she could still feel, somewhat.  
She could certainly hear, and somehow she spoke.  
An image of a man appeared before her. It would turn out to be Mr. House.

"I've saved you.  
You are a legend for these NCR and as much as I'd like them to submit to me, the idea of losing you would strike even harder in their upcoming strife.  
So I have a proposition for you."

She tried to speak, say a few words.

"Yes, you can speak. Sadly, your brain had to be extracted from your body.  
Your body… it is held elsewhere. Last I recorded, it was being kept in a tank so perhaps it can be saved.  
Actually, this would be part of our deal."

She wasn't sure if she could express herself in any other way beyond words.  
It was almost like a nightmare.  
To be nothing more but a brain in huge jar, being told by a voice, the only sound that manages to come through, that you have no option but to submit.

"Work for me, and I will continue to preserve you.  
I will give you a body to fight with, and you will be my pawn in the field. Enforcing my will."  
He paused.  
"And if you still want your old body back… I will see what I can do in recovering it from that damned mountain…"

Did she think to talk to him? Did she pretend to have lips to speak to him?  
Somehow, she gave her consent, remembering vividly these words…

 _"Give me the prettiest body that you have._  
 _Return to me my beauty and permit me my vengeance, and I will fight for you for however long you want me."_

One word echoed in her head.  
"Good."

Was it the silence? The uncertainty of the passage of time?  
She heard nothing else, and nothing interacted with her.  
It was simply darkness and no sound, which was almost the loudest and deafening sound existent.  
For a moment she even believed to be in hell, or purgatory.

"I have worked hard on this." she heard.  
"A dream for those who build robots. Nothing with wheels or unstable arms.  
You are to be the first human remade out of metal…"

Then sight returned. And hearing. And speech. And a mirror, to observe the new body she was granted.  
She looked pale, shiny and polished.  
The kind of quality was unlike the world she was in. But only the best for employees of House.

Then the story of revenge was recounted. Her skills were optimized.  
She was explained that only a brain adjusted to this level of skill could deal with mental shortcuts for such extreme precision and combat expertise that this body would allow.

A testament to this would be the fortified Raider encampment that she cleared out just to get back to the man who had ditched her body to rot in the hot sands.  
She dreamed of shooting every limb and torturing him until he died.  
But when the moment finally was there, she only needed to see his desperate and begging face to leave it to a bullet in the brain.

She had enough of this, of her life as a mercenary.  
While she was on the leash of House, she at the time felt happy that she found a sense of purpose now.  
A lord to serve. With no more needs such as food and a reduced requirement of sleep, she almost felt content to be in this situation.

"But how did you find us? Know of our common goal?" Surgeon asked.  
"House has ears everywhere. Told me this man, this Bomber, was disturbing the status quo so harshly, he felt the need to step in."  
She adjusted her metallic arm.

"Told me to find you on the way to this shack.  
Said you might be hostile, I was to try and convince you two or… force the information out of you, had need be."

They looked at each other.  
This was how it was going to go down.  
Three guns against a bomber.


	4. An infamous hunter

**An infamous hunter**

Night passed, and daylight served to continue the trail.  
The shack was near a large and looming gully, and no other landmarks near that would be worth turning toward.  
It made sense to them that their prey had gone in that direction.  
Fresh footprints only confirmed to Eve that he was there.

There was a long stretch ahead before the gully took a bend. So another story was told.  
The robot and the man both looked at Surgeon. After a sigh, she caved in  
"Fine…"

She didn't share much of her childhood. She had loving parents, despite the harsh post-apocalyptic world.  
But when she reached the age of 23, she started getting a headache for a week straight.  
She couldn't sleep, and had nightmares.  
Doctors, working on already limited medicinal knowledge, feared that she'd have a brain tumor.  
Told her parents to come back in a week for surgery if it still kept up.  
Medicine struggled to attain its knowledge in the post apocalyptic world. Her chances of survival were slim.

But she knew it wasn't a tumor. Her head hurt from all the things she started to see and know.  
Suddenly, she knew how to handle a gun, a rifle, a shotgun, and clean them.  
Despite not even owning any of them. It was as though eons of knowledge was unlocked to her in the course of a week.  
She knew things even her companions wouldn't believe.

But it also changed her. As she first was happy-go-lucky, she had become stern and almost emotionless.  
After a week of recovering with her parents, she hugged them, kissed them and told them she loved them, but that she had to go and make a career for herself.

It started with hunting Gecko's. Her father's pistol was ready to fall apart, but it lasted long enough for her to earn her a real weapon.  
And as Gecko's turned to Ghouls, and Ghouls to even larger prey, it didn't take long for her to start hunting the most dangerous of prey.

 _Man_.

Skilled with all sorts of weaponry, she took a liking to a caravan shotgun.  
She didn't know how, but if she focussed hard and deeply enough, she could make her buckshot hit the tiniest of targets, with no pellets missed.  
It's that skill that earned her the title of Shotgun Surgeon.

Years go by, and she finds herself being a familiar face to the NCR. The girl that took all of their targets down.  
Until there is one bounty of a man. A man she's never seen before, but recognizes still.  
A deep memory, one she can't yet grasp. Like an itch you just can't scratch.  
She takes the bounty, tips her hat at a man in polished leather armor, and now she walks next to him, accompanied by a robot lady.

"So, you just knew how to handle a gun, just like that?"  
Diamond asked, seeing how close to the gully's bend they had gotten.  
"Do I seem like a liar to you? You've seen how well I can shoot."  
He shakes his head "Sorry, sorry. Just seems like you've been blessed by some god or some such."

Those words had only just come from his mouth, or they heard music play around them.  
They hadn't noticed the speakers until they started to make a sound. A connoisseur would recognize the song as Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture".

They rushed toward the bend, only to see a large structure before them. And on the balcony up high… their target.

The Mad Mojave Bomber, in all his glory. Hands learning on the railing, smirking at the sight of the trio.  
"Welcome!" his voice spoke through the speakers, slightly drowning out the song.  
"And congratulations… You've found me, now all that is left is to kill me… if you can manage that!"

The trio pulled their weapons. But what they didn't see was the small detonator in the Bomber's hands. Triggering an explosive near, it was strong enough to push them aside, but it caused a lot of dust, disallowing them to fire precisely.  
"Now come! Catch me if you can!" and he retreated.

The entrance swings open, and at the 11 minute mark, the trio enters the premises.  
The song only becomes louder until it reaches a very specific moment… the pace of the song picks up, accompanied by a few minor explosions.  
They weren't enough to falter them. The moment was now, and he was to be chased.

Around the 12 minute mark, they saw him on an open field.  
Hands in the air, almost surrendering.  
Closing in, they quickly grabbed and cuffed him.

But as the song reached a specific mark… Even bigger explosions happened.  
Rigged mini nukes that were quickly turning the area into hazards.

Diamond saw the last one, ready to be dropped from up high, in close enough proximity to kill them all.  
So he drew his gun, alerting his companions, and fired the one bullet that would prove to save them all.

The mini nuke exploded up high. Some shrapnel started to fling at them in consequence, but Surgeon yelled at them.  
Let's go! The Fallout of that is going to mess us up otherwise, come on!"

They made their way out. They could barely hear the cackling of the Bomber that they were holding on to, dragging with them.  
They didn't go all this way to leave the bounty behind.

The song ended, but the last set of explosions caught the trio by surprise, and they found themselves knocked out.


	5. A betrayal at noon

**A betrayal at noon**

"What now, boy? You got your reward. I know the bounty. Dead or alive.  
You could cut my head off, surely that'll keep me dead this time…" a mocking laugh was heard.

Surgeon felt like her entire body was in bruises.  
In fact, she couldn't even move for a long while.  
She wondered how long she was out.  
Going by the intensity of the ringing in her ears, long enough that she could somewhat hear people speak.

"Shut up…" she heard Diamond say. Her eyes were slowly opening.  
She could see him looming over Evelynn, with the Bomber on his knees, a step away from him.

Diamond drew his gun, and shot at Eve's head. She saw the bullet ricochet.  
"You dumb shite, that's quality material. You couldn't even pry that open with a crowbar."  
But the man squinted his eye, and aimed precisely "Not unless you know the weak points".  
Another shot was heard, and Eve's headpiece made sounds that strongly implied it broke.

Eve's limbs were slightly spazzing. It seems the explosion completely messed up her wiring. She couldn't even speak.  
Diamond straddled on top of her, knees pressing on her arms.

"Now, dear… please don't take this personal" he said, as he removed the frontal plate, exposing the brain.  
"but I was given strict orders… and you two need to be out of the picture."  
The robot made a whirring sound. Everything the android girl had in her, she was giving now to preserve her own life.

An even higher pitch was heard. A cry, a plea for help. A shriek of panic.  
A gunshot, and then, deadly silence. A chill passed on Surgeon's spine.

He wiped off some of the blood off of his cheek, and stood up.  
"God damn, I've seen some cowards in my days, but you top them a-"  
The Bomber gets pistol whipped into silence.  
A spit of blood on the ground showed that he was hit pretty hard, accompanied by some coughing.

Diamond walked towards Surgeons struggling body. She was wounded, and slowly regained control of her limbs.  
But not fast enough, as Eve's executioner now stood next to her. Gun nonchalantly pointed towards her head.

"...you… coward…" She muttered.  
He moved a foot over her. She was now between his legs. He was savoring this moment.  
The moment he'd take down the renown Shotgun Surgeon.

"Like I said…" he started "...nothing personal, but I've got orders."  
He cocked the hammer of his revolver. "If it's any consolation, I think it's a shame to waste a fine piece of ass like yours…"  
He took fine aim.  
"But I'll get over it."

Time seemed to slow down. She was a little bit scared, but relief was part of it too. At least she'd no longer feel all that pain.  
Have to remember those headaches. Those memories that keep destroying her focus.

Time continued, and a shot was heard. She saw some sand poof up from the ground, and realized that he had missed.  
A large trenchcoat had run into him. Revealing to be the Bomber throwing his full weight, cuffs included, into the back of Dead-Eye Diamond.

"Get the fuck up" he barked "or stay dead forever!"  
He tried to regain his balance, not easy with your hands tied behind your back.  
Diamond shot him in the leg and quickly moved his aim toward his former partner.

But she was quick and had recovered the feeling in her limbs. Her shotgun was ready, and they both fired.

What happened was almost an impossibility. Something that never happens in the world.  
But all the focussed buckshot had somehow blocked the very bullet that was directed toward her head.

Diamond couldn't fathom it for a moment. Missing twice, in the same day? What possibly could be going on?  
Surgeon used this moment to shoot him in the shoulder. It seems she wasn't fully recovered yet for a killshot.

She opened up her shotgun, ready to reload, while seeing her opponent struggle to deal with the pain.  
"God… damnit…"

His aim was off, he was shaking too hard, so instead he shot the gun out of her hands.  
An audible cuss was coming from him.  
"Ffff-fuck… Surgeon, I'm taking this fucker with me. You move and I swear I'll shoot you."

They were all in bad shape. There was no telling if it was bluff or truth, only luck could have decided that.  
But Surgeon decided against it.  
Even if with his shot arm, she still had her weapon shot out of her hands.  
She decided this wasn't a gamble she'd take him up on. She let him go with her bounty, dragging the Bomber with him using his good arm.

Five minutes after Diamond and his captive had left her sight, she dropped to her knees.  
The numbness was returning, and she needed a moment before she could stand again.  
The sand was warm and soft. She wished she could stay like this forever. Forever warm, never hungry, always comfortable.

Knowing that couldn't be, she raised herself as the sky turned to Dusk. She looked at what was left of Eve.  
There was no brain left, just tissue and a hollow metal shell. One tear rolled off her cheek.  
She also knew of the story of this mercenary, and was saddened to see that the legend everyone presumed dead, had actually died right beside her.  
A story, cut short too early.

She went home. It was time to tend to her wounds and recover.  
Restock her supplies and accept this as a zero profit operation.  
If not an outright loss. Time to move on.


	6. The Assassin

**The Assassin**

A cut on a baby's arm. As cruel as this tribe was to it's victims, the more cruelty their own people experienced.  
Their offspring was to be strong. A scar symbolizing their unison, forever in life.  
If the baby bled to death, it would be discarded. Had it survive long enough, it would be a worthy addition to the tribe.

But one did more than survive. He small baby hands grasped the knife's blade that was cutting into him.  
At that age, babies barely had any control over their limbs, let alone fingers.  
But he somehow knew early on how his body had been put together.

His training during his childhood proved this. Starting from knife training, to spear throwing.  
Diamond had shown an aptitude to precision and decision making.  
A sharp sense of precision, accompanied by sharp wit.

Anything he couldn't conquer by his lethal skill, he solved by speech.  
And when he was ready to escape adolescence, he had already become the right hand of the Tribe's leader.  
His mother, just as fierce of nature as he was, was proud. He learned his values from her.  
From stories told of the great man his father was. A man long dead before his birth.

A fateful day came, however. Men in Roman armor came to the Tribe.  
They sought the leader, seeking their cooperation in leading another tribe named Caesar's Legion.  
Saying they had heard of his great leadership, they sought to be taught the lessons toward greatness.

The boy was wary. These men spoke as smooth as he did.  
And their leader was nowhere to be found, despite having all these men with their fancy words buttering up the man he himself actually sought to succeed.

The negotiations were peaceful. The tribe was to keep it's own values while lending its wisdom to Caesar, who he had yet to meet.  
And with the written agreement, the three representatives raised themselves and greeted.

Had the mojave still retained most of it's preserved history, it would be admirable how well these men mimicked the Roman army.  
Except for one detail. The detail being that one of them pulled out a pistol, and shot the leader in the gut.

And as people looked around in shock, so did they see more Legionnaires trickle in.  
It was a trap. An elusive plan to insert Caesar's troops in vital locations as the negotiations went on.  
Had he not been in such shock, the boy would have found it fascinating.

Everyone who took up arms was swiftly killed.  
Any thought of standing up was met with the ruthless execution of not one, but two of the members of the tribe.  
Just to make a point.

Everyone who was left was gathered and brought before Caesar himself in his encampment.  
His face sneered, looking at all the fearful and shivering lumps of human trash.  
All but one, however. One boy just kneeled with the rest of them, making himself as small as possible, but not shivering.  
Instead he observed, sizing up the men that kept everyone in check.

Caesar noticed, and ordered the boy to rise. One woman raised her hand, screaming "No!".  
His mother was fearful for his life, exposing her connection to him.

"You look like an interesting fellow.  
I've seen you look. Sizing up my men as though you could take them."  
He didn't speak. But his face betrayed that he indeed thought so.

Caesar pulled a pistol from his holster, and threw it to a guard.  
Then he pulled a spear from the ground, and handed it to the small boy beside him.

 _"Take him out. Or perish."_  
Caesar commanded.

The boy didn't think twice.  
The guard fumbled with the pistol, ready to aim, but a spear had already pierced his arm.

Disarmed, the guard had only the option to see in horror as his head was to be pierced by a slug from the very pistol he was first given.

Caesar clapped his hands, even as the boy turned his aim toward him.  
"Good, GOOD." he said "He was weak. A poor excuse for a Praetorian. You winnowed my protective troops, eliminating a soft spot."

His clapping stopped.  
"Would you like to keep doing this? Remove the world of it's weak elements?  
Reshape it into a better world as I, and surely you, see fit?"

His aim lowered slightly. Caesar hadn't flinched at the barrel pointed at him, and he knew it.  
Gaze lowered in thought, he looked up again towards the imposing leader.

"Bring the woman." Caesar commanded to his guard.  
"Aim your gun at her." He commanded the boy.  
"She is weak. They all are. Prove you are stronger than them, and remove her yourself.  
Show me how far you will go to prove your excellence."

The boy's gaze turned towards his mother. Her hands stretched outward, she started to plea for her life.  
The once strong mother figure he looked up to had now become a sniveling and groveling zombie, a bag of flesh no longer worth it's place on earth.

A pistol fire heralded his place in the Legion. Caesar raised his fist, and lowers his thumb, signalling the guards to open fire on the other survivors.  
It was his practice to merge tribes into his own Legion, but he felt that this boy alone was worth all the trouble.

He had found someone who might prove worthy to be his heir.


	7. An end to all things

**An end to all things**

With a loud "Ooof", Diamond threw his bounty inside the royal tent, in front of Caesar.  
A smile appeared on his face, and he raised himself slightly in his seat.

"You've been a great nuisance, haven't you… Richard?"  
The almost omnipresent smile on the Bomber's face was replaced with a sneer.  
"How do you know that name?"

"Oh, I'm an intelligent man. Over time, I pieced together what my spies had reported to me.  
Explosions aren't a good way to erase a history. There's always some… residue."

Caesar raised himself, and walked up to the kneeling, wigged man.  
"I could have you killed, right here. Executed. In fact, your head would have been enough to convince me.  
But no, I wanted you here, alive. To make an offer."

The Bomber looked unimpressed. Almost unfazed. But he did speak.  
"Let's hear it…"

Caesar continued.  
"All the explosives you could want. All the carnage you desire. Wreak havoc all you like… but in my name.  
In return, I'll make sure my spies keep all those pesky, yet crafty bounty hunters away.  
You'll become a shadow. Appearing to encompass the land mass, and disappearing as the sunlight comes."

"A shadow…" The bomber spoke to himself.  
A few moments spent in thought, he raised his head and asked one thing.  
"I need guidance… all I have left is a picture of my long-dead family in my inside pocket… show it to me, maybe the sight of them can bring clarity…"

Caesar spread his hands, almost in a religious manner.  
"I am nothing, if not merciful." he said, and bent over to grab the picture from the jacket's inside pocket.  
With a wriggle and a tug, it finally came out.

Resting it in the palm of his hand, Caesar showed it to be the bomber.  
A tear escaping his cheek, he would start giggling. Looking up again, he speaks.  
"I guess it was meant to be." Words that seemingly pleased Caesar.  
"Maybe I was destined to seek that one big bang…"  
A puzzled face escaped the grand leader, but a wide smile appeared on the Bomber's face, as a faint whirring could be heard from the kneeling man.

Diamond rushed forward to grab Caesar, pushing him forward out of harm's way as what he rightly suspected was a trigger mechanism, ready to detonate something.  
"Who knew this jacket would be the end of me!" the bomber cackled.

In the distance, a traveling trader spots an explosion in the distance, with an even bigger dust cloud rising up.

It would turn out that Caesar had been almost perfectly protected from the blast.  
Not hard to imagine, when a full squad of Praetorians threw themselves on their glorious leader to protect him from the blast.

Stories in the Mojave would continue. Men in wigs, reported to be blowing up strategical locations with timed explosives.  
None could tell whether it was the Mojave Bomber, until they caught the culprit.  
It turned out to be a mere man donning a powdered wig.  
But his capture did not end any future bombings.  
This was not the work of one man. But multiple. All donning the same disguise.

The Mad Mojave Bomber's body was never recovered, but his legacy continued in the hearts of those desiring a special kind of chaos… seemingly random, but calculated behind the scenes.

They would set the stage for an even greater event to occur.

And maybe… the return of their Messiah.


End file.
